


You’re My Best Friend, You’re My Sunshine

by Daisy_Morgan



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode: s04e22 Sweet Revenge, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Me and thee, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s04e22 Sweet Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 00:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Morgan/pseuds/Daisy_Morgan
Summary: Just how strong is their bond?
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson & David Starsky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	You’re My Best Friend, You’re My Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> So this story was originally written as a slash story in response to a FB prompt where we were given a list of 70's song titles to choose from. That version is also on AO3 and is called "Somebody to Love."
> 
> But after I posted the slash version, I wanted to challenge myself to write a gen version of the story as well, both so gen-only readers would be able to read it, and because I wanted to focus on the most important thing about Starsky & Hutch, which is their friendship, love, and devotion for each other.

Starsky sat in the chair beside Hutch and held his hand. He was thinking about the things he said the first time Hutch was shot, more than five years ago. When he had referred to Meredith as his “partner.” When he had told Hutch, “my partner’s already been filled in.” He had said he would personally request Meredith again “the next time my partner gets shot.”

He winced hard at that last one. Christ, how he wished he could take them all back now. Especially that one. He had meant it as a joke.

“You knew that, right Hutch? It was a joke. You’re the only partner I’ll ever want. I didn’t mean it, it was just a stupid joke!” He was getting angry at himself now.

It was Hutch who had saved his sorry ass when he and Meredith had gotten themselves tied up at the hands of teenagers. Teenagers, for chrissakes! Hutch who had checked himself out of the hospital early, running around town wearing the same bloody clothes he was brought in with. And what did Starsky do? Did he thank him? Did he ask Hutch if he was okay, if he needed to sit down? No, because he was too infatuated with his new “partner” to bother.

That was the first time Hutch saved his life that year.

“You know I didn’t mean it. You’re the only partner I’ll ever need, Hutch,” he said, and squeezed Hutch’s hand.

They never really talked about it afterwards. He said his goodbyes to Meredith and that was that. They were back to the same old Starsky and Hutch, me and thee, and all that. At least most of the time. Until THAT time, anyway. The time when Hutch did something that Starsky never thought he would do. Hutch had listened to him confide that he was in love with Kira, and then he rushed out the door to go over and sleep with her.

_No, that wasn’t fair, because that’s not exactly what happened, is it_? Starsky realized that he was starting to channel his anger towards his partner now. He needed to stop that. He needed to be positive. For Hutch.

Besides, they had been over it before, poured their hearts out to each other, made amends, decided that no woman would ever come between them again. Realized that their friendship was more important than sex (or even love) with any woman could ever be.

The second time Hutch saved Starsky’s life that year was when “Harry” drugged Starsky with plans to stab him to death, just like Monique’s other one-night stands. Starsky had been careless, taking his holster off to play the guitar. Hutch singlehandedly solved the case, too. He really was the brains of their operation that night.

Starsky remembered how they had sat there, on top of the picnic table. Hutch had hoisted him up, knocking Starsky’s head against the lamp that was hanging above the table. Starsky could barely lift his arms but he leaned against his partner while Hutch held him close, a strong and comforting arm around Starsky’s shoulder.

“You were always there for me, Hutch. You’re my pal, Hutch,” he said, as he continued holding his hand.

The third time Hutch saved Starsky’s life that year was when Starsky was shot by Gunther’s goons and lay dying in a coma. After he came out of surgery, the doctors said there was nothing more they could do. When Starsky’s heart stopped, the doctors worked for what seemed an eternity to restart it, but it was only when he woke up from his coma that it was clear he was going to make it.

And it was all because of Hutch.

While recovering for weeks afterwards in the hospital, Starsky had lots of time to think about what Hutch had told him when he returned from San Francisco after arresting Gunther.

How he had sat by Starsky’s beside for hours after Starsky was shot, sitting on the other side of the tubes and machines that were keeping his partner alive, unable to bring himself to touch him, unable to make himself speak, not knowing why, but feeling powerless over his own actions. Feeling powerless about everything. Crying only in the bathroom, alone.

There was an empty bed in Starsky’s room. In his unconscious state, did Starsky think Hutch had been shot too and was lying in the other bed, like that time they were in the car accident?

Hutch always needed to be in control and when Starsky lay in that coma, dying, he could do nothing to stop it. Sure, he could investigate who ordered the hit and make sure that justice was served before they killed him too. But he couldn’t control whether Starsky lived or died. At least, he assumed he couldn’t.

But he was wrong.

“You kept me alive, pal. You made me live.”

Starsky was in a coma, but somehow he had been able to sense that Hutch was no longer in the hospital. And if he thought Hutch was dead, then he didn’t want to live anymore.

Hadn’t he said as much when Hutch was missing during the botulism scare? Told Dobey that if Hutch died, he wouldn’t give a damn about anything. And so when Starsky lay dying in the hospital and couldn’t hear Hutch, or feel his touch, or sense his presence, or even smell his partner’s familiar warm-scented mixture of sweat and musky cologne, Starsky simply gave up and died. Until Hutch burst through those doors and came running towards him, and Starsky willed himself to live. It was as simple as that.

And when Hutch finally spoke to him, said his name, Starsky awoke from his coma.

Like sleeping beauty, only without the kiss.

He lived because of Hutch. Their bond was that strong.

Now, four years later, he sat in Hutch's hospital room thinking about it, after Hutch was shot for only the second time in his life. “I’m here partner. Can you hear me? Can you feel my hand? Can you give me a sign?”

He thought about when Hutch lay dying from the plague, and the doctors wouldn’t let Starsky visit with him. He persisted though, insisting he be allowed in Hutch’s room. He donned a face mask and gloves and sat on the edge of his ailing partner’s bed, grasping both of Hutch’s hands in his own gloved hands, eyebrows knitted, trying not to cry.

He was grateful he could stay with Hutch now, that he could touch him.

Now he just needed to stay here in this room so his partner would know he wasn’t alone. So his partner wouldn’t give up like he had.

Just then, Dobey walked in and interrupted Starsky’s reverie. He put his hand on Starsky’s shoulder and asked “How are you doing, son?”

“How do you think I’m doin’, Cap’n?” was all Starsky could say in response.

For three days, Starsky never stopped holding Hutch’s hand, never stopped touching him, never stopped talking to him, except on those occasions when he had to leave the room to use the john.

He had lasted over 24 hours before finally dozing off. When he woke and realized he had been sleeping in the chair, he panicked, worried that Hutch was gone, having been unable to sense Starsky's presence.

But as Starsky groggily became aware of his surroundings, he realized that: 1) Hutch was still breathing and 2) He was still holding his partner’s hand.

He remembered when he brought Hutch to Huggy’s after he found him in that alley all those years ago, and sat with him on the bed, and held him down and tried to comfort him. Hutch had begged him for help, for a fix. He had grabbed onto Starsky’s arm and batted away the coffee, spilling it everywhere. How Starsky had wanted to cry from seeing his partner in so much pain and anguish. How he had looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink away the tears.

He remembered that night, sleeping in the chair beside the bed, using a towel for a blanket, one blue Adidas on and one off. He had blocked Hutch’s way to the door with the chairs from the card table, concerned that he would try to leave while Starsky slept. When he woke up, Hutch was sitting up in bed, the awful insomnia preventing him from sleeping.

Now Hutch was lying in a coma, not responding to anything, not pleading with Starsky to help him, not gripping Starsky’s arm, or yelling at him, not insulting him or trying to push him away from the door. He looked almost peaceful, pumped so full of meds that he couldn’t possibly be feeling any pain.

But Starsky couldn’t decide which was worse.

“I’m here, buddy, I’m right here.”

After trying unsuccessfully to kick him out of the ICU, the nurses finally took pity on Starsky and brought him a comfortable chair along with a blanket and pillow. It was a step up from the towel he used at Huggy’s, but he was afraid to sleep. He would nod off from time to time but then he’d suddenly jerk awake, checking to see if Hutch was still alive, checking to see if he was still holding his hand.

Hours passed. Nurses and doctors came and went, some whom Starsky had seen before, some not. He barely registered their presence. He only moved out of the way when they asked him to, and for as brief a time as possible. And he only let go of Hutch’s hand when he had to.

After three days of keeping a vigil, everyone was pleading with him to go home and take a shower.

But Starsky refused. He didn’t dare leave Hutch’s hospital room for more than a few minutes. He wouldn’t dare leave the hospital, because he was terrified of Hutch finding himself alone and giving up. And besides, he didn’t mind if his smell was rank because Hutch was familiar with that smell. He needed Hutch to smell him, to feel him, to hear him. To know he was there.

Earlier in the day, Starsky had asked Huggy to bring him his Sony Walkman and a cassette. Huggy had gone to Starsky’s house and retrieved them. It took him a while to find the cassette which was hidden behind a stack of records, because Starsky hadn’t listened to it in a couple of years.

Then Huggy left and now Starsky was alone again with Hutch. “You’re my best friend, Hutch. You’re the best friend I got in the whole world. Can you hear me?” His tone was one of despair.

He pressed Play and sang along with the lyrics to “You’re My Best Friend” to keep himself awake.

_Ooh, you make me live_

Hutch had bought the Walkman and the “Queen Greatest Hits” cassette for Starsky when he was home recovering from his gunshot wounds after the Gunther ordeal. Walkmans had just come out that year and Hutch thought Starsky would enjoy listening to it while doing his physical therapy exercises.

Now their world had come full circle but in a topsy-turvy way, and he almost felt dizzy thinking about it.

_Ooh, you make me live_

============

They were at Starsky’s place, one day in 1980, and Starsky was sitting on the floor, propped up against the sofa, panting and sweating. He had been playing the tape while he did his exercises, but never pressed Stop when he finished. Hutch had walked over to him to see if he was okay.

“Hey, bring me an orange juice, partner?” Starsky asked, exhausted.

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Hutch kneeled beside Starsky and handed him the juice.

_Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had_

Starsky drank the juice and put the empty glass on the floor beside him. Hutch studied him, trying to gauge how he was feeling. “You sure you’re okay, Starsk?”

Hutch had taken care of Starsky all through his recovery, cooking for him, driving him to the doctor, making sure he did his exercises every day.

“For the millionth time, Hutch, I’m sure. Help me up, will ya?”

Hutch took hold of Starsky’s arm with one hand and put his other hand around Starsky’s waist, trying to pull him up, when Starsky started laughing.

“Hey, stop that, I’m ticklish!” he giggled as he wriggled out of Hutch’s grasp. That set Hutch to laughing as well and they fell to pieces chortling and giggling like little boys as Hutch deliberately tickled Starsky some more.

============

Starsky sat beside Hutch’s bed and put his hand on his partner’s shoulder, remembering that day four years ago.

“Hey Hutch, remember when you found out how ticklish I am? Remember how we laughed?” He squeezed Hutch’s hand, hoping Hutch would squeeze it back. But there was no response. There had been no response from Hutch in three days.

============

All that laughing made Starsky’s side hurt and he winced in pain.

“Starsk, you okay?” Hutch asked for the gazillionth time since Starsky had been discharged from the hospital months earlier.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a cramp,” Starsky assured him.

Hutch studied Starsky’s face, his body language, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. “Do you need anything?”

“I still need you to help me up,” Starsky reminded him, beginning to laugh again. Hutch pulled him up by his hands this time. When they stood up, Starsky put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder and looked at him. “Thanks, partner,” he said. “Thanks for always being there for me.”

============

“You were always there for me, Hutch. And I’ll always be here for you. I’m right here, partner.”

As he spoke, tears started to well up in Starsky’s eyes. But he needed to keep talking. He needed Hutch to know he was still here.

He pressed Play.

_You're my best friend_

_Ooh, you make me live_

He leaned over and stroked Hutch’s hair.

He couldn’t stop thinking about sitting on the bed at Huggy’s all those years ago, holding Hutch in his arms, trying to get him to drink some coffee, trying to keep Hutch from vomiting all over himself, stroking his neck, trying to comfort him. Wishing he could hold him now.

He pressed Pause.

“Ya big lummox, I got you through your heroin withdrawal, I’m gonna get you through whatever you’re goin’ through now,” he said to his partner. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes.”

He talked to Hutch about Terry, about how he had wanted to give up after she died, and how Hutch had pulled him back from the abyss. He asked him if he remembered when Starsky told him about it when Hutch was faking amnesia.

“I need you, partner.”

He wished to God that Hutch was faking his condition now.

He talked about that time on the school playground, and how he had loved watching Hutch play basketball with Terry’s kids. How he was such a natural with them.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love how you are with kids? Hey, wouldn’t it be somethin’ if you and I had kids someday? Maybe we could get married in a double weddin’ and we can be each other’s best man! And I’ll be Uncle Dave to your kids and you’ll be Uncle Ken to mine. We might not know much about takin’ care of babies and toddlers, but we have experience helping to raise teenagers. By the way, they came by earlier today, Molly and Kiko. They’ve been here every day. What do you say Hutch, how ‘bout it? My kids are gonna need their Uncle Ken.”

He touched his partner’s arm and squeezed. Tears welled up in Starsky’s eyes, making it hard for him to see.

“Please, I need you, too.”

He unpaused the Walkman, playing the song again, singing along with it softly, purposely singing off-key.

But Hutch didn’t offer a sarcastic remark about Starsky’s singing ability. “Come on Hutch, aren’t you gonna say something about my singing, huh?” He hung his head, despondent. “That’s okay babe, you just need more time. It’s okay.”

He held Hutch’s hand again and resumed the song. There was a line about sunshine that played just as Huggy walked into the room.

“Hey, blondie, you’re my sunshine.” Then Starsky paused the Walkman and sang softly to Hutch, in tune this time.

It was then that Starsky noticed Huggy standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Hug, could you do me a favor and get me some coffee and maybe a doughnut or somethin’?”

“Sure, Starsky, but what you really need is a shower and some mouthwash. Hope you’re not offended if I don’t want to stand too close. You sure you don’t want to go home for an hour? I’ll stay here with Mr. Sunshine.”

“You know I can’t leave him, Hug,” Starsky said solemnly. “But I’ll understand if you don’t want to stick around and join me for dinner.”

“I’m surprised you’re even hungry, Starsky. Dobey hasn’t eaten anything in three days except coffee, same as when you were shot.”

“I’m not, but I gotta keep up my energy. Don’t wanna fall asleep,” said Starsky despondently, yawning and willing himself to stay awake.

Huggy was more than happy to leave the room and head for more pleasant-smelling pastures. He went down to the hospital cafeteria to get the coffee and doughnut, but before he had even left the room, Starsky was already singing to Hutch again.

============

Starsky consumed the food Huggy had brought him, not tasting it, and in between bites he told Hutch, “I’ll wait right here for you, buddy, for as long as it takes, until you’re ready to come back. And once you’re better and I can take you home and tuck you in, I’m gonna cook for you, just like you cooked for me. I’m gonna scramble up some eggs and learn how to make health food shakes and veal piccata and blueberry pie. Whatever it takes, partner. And then you and I are gonna live to the ripe old age of 147. Come on, whadda ya say?”

He pressed Play and continued the song.

He pressed Pause.

“Hey, you know how I always act ignorant so we can play that game where you pretend to have superior knowledge? I love playing that game, blondie. People look at us and wonder how we can be friends, because we’re so different. But we know better. They don’t know it’s just a game we play. And I really do love all the things you do, blue eyes. Like how you talk to your plants. And go on your little rants. Hey, that rhymes!”

The tears started welling up again. “Hey Hutch, I just said something corny. You’re supposed to roll your eyes now. Come on, Hutch. Roll your eyes. Show me those beautiful blue eyes of yours, dammit!” he pleaded, voice rising with anger and despair. Then he immediately felt bad about getting angry and started running his hand along Hutch’s arm, saying “I’m sorry blintz, it’s okay. You’re not ready yet, it’s okay Hutch, take your time, take as much time as you need. I’ll be here.”

Sobbing, he fumbled for the Play button and played the last part of the song:

_Oh, you're my best friend_

The tears were streaming down Starsky’s face now, making it hard for him to see them dripping onto the thin blanket covering his ailing partner.

The doctors had told him three days ago that Hutch was going to die. Can you believe that? Starsky didn’t. No sirree. When the tables were turned, Starsky had lived because of Hutch. And he’d be damned if the same thing wasn’t going to happen this time. Their bond was that strong.

Hutch would come back to him. He knew it. Could feel it in his gut. They would see. Hutch would prove them wrong, just like Starsky had proved them wrong four years ago.

Starsky just needed to keep talking to him, just needed to keep touching him, even if that meant he had to stay awake and in this room forever. Even if that meant pissing in a bedpan so he wouldn’t have to leave to go down the hallway to the men’s room.

He suddenly remembered opening his eyes for the first time after the Gunther shooting and seeing his blond partner standing there, heard his soothing voice. And then Hutch turned around and Starsky saw his face, those blue eyes, that winning smile. The reason he was alive now.

Starsky leaned over to get closer, running his fingers through Hutch’s matted blond hair. Sobbing freely now, he didn’t notice his tears dripping onto Hutch’s cheek. Through the blurry haze, he also didn’t see Hutch’s beautiful blue eyes open for the first time since he had been shot.

But he unmistakably felt something squeezing his hand.

-The End-

**Author's Note:**

> **You’re My Best Friend, by Queen**   
_Music and lyrics by John Deacon_   
[Hear the song on YouTube](https://youtu.be/HaZpZQG2z10)


End file.
